


The Road to the First Time

by rivendellrose



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dating, F/M, First Time, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the same AU as "Twenty Years On", this takes off from the end of the flashback in that piece and carries Susan and Marcus's courtship through to the first time they actually manage to get together (gasp!).  I can't remember the exact wording of the request anymore, but it effectively came down to hearts_blood and I talking about how damned awkward and hilarious Marcus and Susan's first time must have been, what with it being Marcus's <i>actual</i> first time, and them being, well, them.  I may not have quite hit the hilarious, but I definitely hit the awkward at a few points.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to the First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearts_blood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



One dinner. That had been the promise - that when Franklin released him from Medbay, Susan would go out with him for one dinner. She phrased it as ‘owing’ him that much, which wasn’t the way Marcus liked to look at it, but... at this point, he figured he’d take whatever he could get. And for once in his life, he hadn’t blown that one chance. He’d been careful. 

He dressed in plain, nice casual clothes that he’d originally bought for undercover missions like the one on Mars, and he met her at her quarters, exactly on time and carrying a single red rose in a little vase. He’d bought it on the Zocalo - bright blue glass that shimmered and glistened with all the colors of a rainbow. It reminded him of her. 

Susan was dressed casually, too, in a dark blue dress that of a light, soft fabric that gleamed in an enticing way, though it was cut in such a way as to subtly suggest that there was little chance of seeing what was underneath it. Still, it was a nice change, seeing her out of uniform and with her hair loose around her shoulders after all the months of stress and difficulty, and the view even with the dress’s conservative design was more than pleasant enough to brighten Marcus’s night. She accepted the flower with an eye-rolling but sort of tolerant good grace that seemed like an optimistic sign for the evening. 

They ate at Fresh Air, which was an interesting experience for a ranger more accustomed to the dark and seedy underbelly of Babylon 5 than its high-end respectable facilities for traveling business types and ambassadors. Eggplant fries with sea salt and honey, spice-rubbed duck with cherries and chestnuts, beet-yogurt soup with avocado creme, roasted carrot salad with preserved lemon, and gingered burdock pickle all made their way to their table, and Susan seemed quite happy with it all, and all through it they kept up a cheery banter, chatting about their friends and colleagues, about the news from Earth, about positively anything that entered their minds except work. Dessert - with coffee, of course - quieted conversation to receive all the attention it deserved. And once it was all over and the check had been handled - looking at it, Marcus made a mental note to make himself _very_ useful to Delenn over the next months in order to make up for the extreme leniency she was displaying in regards to his _Anla’shok_ expense account in order to allow this indulgence - he offered Susan his arm to escort her from the dining room, and was pleasantly surprised when she accepted and even leaned against him a little as they navigated the tight pathways between tables and out onto the Zocalo. 

“I’m not sure I can walk after eating all that,” Susan admitted with a little laugh. “I’ll have to go on field rations for a week just to settle my system.”

“Don’t do that. It would be such a waste. No one should eat field rations unless they have to.”

She snorted. “I’m a soldier. I can’t eat chocolate-orange-caramel torte every night. Anyway, you’re going to be on field rations whether you want to or not, after that bill. I did see it.”

Marcus waved his hand. “I’ve paid worse to get a contact talking. Apologizing to you is a much more worthwhile goal.”

“Mmm.” They walked in silence for a while. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s close with the Minbari. I know they don’t pay their people for work the same way we do. You shouldn’t have gone to that kind of expense if--”

“Susan. Let me worry about it, all right? Anyway, it was worth a little trouble, wasn’t it? Even if you had to listen to me chatter?”

“It was amazing. Especially the duck, with the cherries and chestnuts, and...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “And the there wasn’t anything wrong with the company, either. You’re fine company as long as you don’t get ideas into your head.”

Marcus slowed their progress to a stop. The entrance to Earheart’s was just to their right. “Ideas... like going dancing?”

“Marcus... I just said I can hardly walk.”

“Then we’ll have a drink and wait for the evil torte to settle down.”

“We just had drinks. And dessert, and coffee.”

Marcus tried on his most winning grin. “But no dancing, yet. That’s a traditional date, dinner and dancing.”

“I promised _one dinner_. Not a date.”

“I thought ‘date’ was implied.”

Susan pushed away from his touch with an exasperated sigh. “This is your problem, Marcus. You can’t ever take what you’re given with good grace and stop there. You have to push for more.”

“I’m not pushing. I’m offering. It’s been years since I’ve been on a date, and... I want this one to go well.”

“What’s your definition of ‘well,’ Marcus?” Susan’s eyes as she looked up at him were dark, and cold compared to how they’d looked the rest of the evening. The walls were being built up again even as they spoke, and the lightness in Marcus’s stomach was replaced by the feeling that maybe he’d overdone the drinks and dessert, after all, not to mention definitely overdone the talking. Again. “I know you don’t mean...”

“No. No, I just mean... I just want you to be happy, Susan. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I am happy. I have my friends, I have a job I love, the war is over--”

“I mean _happy_. Not just content, not just getting by. Actually happy. Smiling, not just because things are going well, but because you’re genuinely not thinking about the problems in the universe anymore, you’re just...”

“Happy. Yeah, you mentioned that word once or twice.” She frowned, as if intentionally contradicting him. “I’m not good at happy, Marcus. The best I can usually pull off is ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop.’ And I don’t like feeling like I’m being pressured to change that.”

“That’s not how I mean it.”

“I know it isn’t. But it’s what it feels like to me.”

“All right, then. No pressure, I promise. Just come in to Earhart’s with me, have a few drinks, and dance a little while. It’s too early to go back to our quarters, anyway.”

“It’s already past twenty-two hundred.”

“See?” He grinned. “Way too early for two rebels like us to turn in. Besides, I’ve seen you dance with Steven. He’s got two left feet.” 

Of course he didn’t, but the accusation made Susan smirk. “You think you can do better?”

Marcus grinned broadly. “I know I can. And now you can’t possibly turn me down, can you? You have to know whether or not I’m lying, or stupid, or just arrogant... or telling the absolute unvarnished truth.”

For a moment he was sure she’d say something about how she could live with the mystery. He could almost see her forming the words in her mind. But then she closed her eyes for a second, sighed, and nodded. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

“What changed your mind?” he asked later as they were ensconced in a comfortably private booth, drinking cocktails and watching the couples out on the dance floor they’d recently abandoned for a brief rest and few minutes to recover (he hadn’t been lying about his dancing - if it didn’t surpass Steven Franklin’s skill, it certainly met and challenged it). 

Susan toyed with her half-empty glass, swirling the saffron-infused vodka, brandy, lemon, and the weird hint of rose geranium that had been the detail to finally draw her away from her usual plain liquor. “It was something Delenn said a few weeks ago, after the wedding. She looked so happy, so totally at peace, and John looked the same, and... she said she hoped that someday I would learn to let myself open up to half the joy that she and John and my other friends wished for me, and that sometimes the risk of losing that joy was worth the pleasure of having it. I assumed at the time it was just something Minbari said at weddings, something... y’know, they’re always saying stuff like that.”

“They usually mean it, too,” Marcus pointed out quietly.

“Yeah. It just... made me think. That maybe she was right. And that I just came back from the edge of death. And if there’s anything in life that might be a sign to start taking chances again, that might be it. Also, I was thinking that I love dancing, and there’s nowhere else on the station for it... and that you can’t get in here without an officer,” she added, smirking. “So, consider it the last of my thank-you.”

“Well, in that case...” Marcus tossed back the last of his drink, stood, and held out his hand to her. A new song was starting, and Susan laughed, drained her glass, and accepted the unspoken offer. 

* * *

They were out well past midnight that night, and again the next week. The third Friday in a row, Susan almost turned down the earnest invitation that showed up in her message in-box out of hand. A third date seemed too much like an indication of something, an opening, a start of something, God forbid, that might end up being misunderstood as serious. But she kept delaying sending the response, until somehow it was Friday morning, and one minor disaster after another that nobody else could seem to handle kept her busy until eighteen-hundred hours, by which time it was too damned late to send a message letting him know she was busy. Besides, she was stiff and stressed from a long day of chasing stupidity, and nothing sounded better, somehow, than ranting about it all to an understanding and attentive companion, especially with a drink or three to help the process along.

And it was a _good_ night. They’d given up on the expense of Fresh Air, and Marcus’s creativity had led to more interesting and amusing plans. This time he’d met her at her quarters carrying an honest-to-god picnic basket, and they’d staked out a corner of the gardens heavy with the smell of blooming lilac and honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass, sprawled out on a blanket, and ate a simple dinner of bread, cheese, fruit, and red wine while Susan bitched and complained about the idiocy that surrounded her all day in C &C. Once she’d tired of complaining, she realized that somehow Marcus had drawn the conversation away from work and over to their personal lives, and that somehow, for once, she didn’t mind. He deftly avoided questions about her family that he knew would bring up old frustrations and sorrows, and instead asked all about St. Petersburg, her school, her friends, her time at the officer training school... pretty much anything he could come up with, she realized, that was likely to yield happy memories. A year before, she would have been insulted by the realization. Laying in the grass with her third glass of wine smoothing out the rough edges of her nerves, she just felt... relieved. Light. As if she didn’t need to think about anything more serious than the happy times, for a change.

Which was probably why, when a smiling Marcus reached out and touched her hair, lightly brushing a fallen curl out of her eyes, she leaned in and met him halfway, burying her hand in the soft hair at the base of his skull and pulling him into a slow, exploratory kiss.

When they parted, Marcus’s eyes looked dazed, almost drugged. “Susan...” 

“Don’t tell me that was your first kiss.”

“No, but--”

“Good. I don’t want to have to teach you _everything_. Come on. Let’s go back to my quarters.”

He closed his eyes, and sighed. “Susan... Don’t misunderstand me - I’m... more tempted than I have ever been by anything in my life. But... not tonight. Not yet.”

“Why not?” Unreasonably irritated by this restraint, Susan sat back, her heart pounding now with... oh, everything that she didn’t want to be feeling. Annoyance, hurt, a little betrayal... Who the hell was this ranger to refuse when she was here generously offering to give him what he wanted?

Of course, he had an answer for that unspoken question, too, the glib little ass. “I want to, Susan. But after waiting all this time, it seems wrong to give in now for less than what I’ve been holding out for.”

“What, the perfect first time? I hate to break it to you, Marcus, but there’s no such thing. It only happens that way in books and vids. If you’re waiting for that, you’re going to die still waiting.”

“I’m not waiting for perfect. I’m waiting for it to mean as much to the other person as it does to me. That’s all.”

Susan snorted. “So, what, you’re waiting for someone who’s been waiting as long as you have? Then what the hell are you doing with me?”

“I don’t mean someone else. I mean that this... isn’t just a casual affair to me, Susan. That’s not what I want. I don’t want just sex. I want it to mean more than that.” He meant it, too. His warm, hazel eyes had never looked so earnest. Or, for Susan, so frustrating.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to give you that, Marcus.”

He shrugged. “I’ve waited this long. I don’t see any harm in waiting longer.”

“You’re not listening to me. I’m not saying ‘maybe tomorrow.’ I’m saying that I don’t know if I can _ever_ get there. I may not ever be able to offer you more than I’m offering tonight. And if that’s not good enough for you--” She was about to say that if that wasn’t good enough for him, he could screw off and forget playing these stupid games anymore, but before she could finish the thought he cupped her cheek gently in his roughened hand and kissed her again. Deep, earnest, promising - it was hard to believe it was the kiss of a virgin, and _extremely_ hard to pull away from once Susan let herself relax into it.

“That’s something you’ve never understood about me, Susan,” he murmured against her cheek when they came up for air. “I won’t say I’m not hoping for more. I won’t say I don’t lay awake at night wondering what it would be like to touch you, hold you, feel your body against mine. But whatever you’re willing to give me is enough for me. Although it doesn’t mean I won’t keep hoping for more,” he added, and she could feel his beard move against her skin as he grinned.

* * *

She meant to stop seeing him for a while - if not forever - after that, but it didn’t quite work out the way she’d intended. Somehow, matters kept drawing them back together. The station needed to work with the Rangers, and she’d got into the habit of Marcus being that point of contact, and her being the one to make it. Susan was not above believing that Delenn was in on the game, too. Her Minbari friend was forever sending Marcus on errands to Susan’s office, particularly as Delenn’s pregnancy progressed and the time drew near for Delenn and John to move back to Minbar. And since she couldn’t actually stay away from him, it was hard not to keep accepting the invitations out for dinner, drinks, dancing, even a quiet night watching vids, eating popcorn and drinking vodka. And in time, the very familiarity of the routine started to wear down the old panic and paranoia. 

They spent time together, talked, fought, kissed, even made out like teenagers on the sofa in her quarters, ignoring whatever movie was playing in the background in favor of continuing their still-technically-chaste but increasingly adventurous exploration of each other’s bodies through their clothes. It should have frustrated her, even angered her, playing at necking as if they were fourteen, when really she was thirty-two and knew damned well he was thirty-four. Instead, it was strangely comforting. It was as if, by putting their physical relationship on hold in a way that hearkened back to a more innocent time of life, they managed to temporarily disregard the years since that time, and all the baggage those years had brought for both of them. It was still hard sometimes. Intimacy was more terrifying for Susan than sex ever could be, and the first time she dozed off while they watched a vid and woke an hour later to find the screen blank and Marcus stroking her hair idly while he read some kind of report from one of his many and varied contacts, she panicked. Kicked him out, and only the next day finally broke down and admitted to him that much the same thing had happened late in the evening when Talia Winters stayed over for the first - and only - time.

“I think I loved her,” Susan admitted - saying it had grown easier since telling Delenn during the rebirth ritual. “But after that one night, she was gone. Completely gone. The woman I knew was a program, just a sleeper agent whose real personality waited underneath and coached her in how to get close to me and everything I know. And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. “Susan... I can’t promise I won’t disappoint you or go away. I wouldn’t ever want to, but nobody can make that kind of promise. I can tell you something one of my Minbari teachers told me, though. I was pretty angry when I came to the Rangers, and it didn’t take much for Latell to figure out that anger was about my brother, our parents, the colony... all of that loss. She told me we can’t do anything about when people will leave us. That’s not something we can change in this life, barring a few unusual circumstances. But we _can_ change how we interact with them while they’re here, and the quality of those interactions can make a few short years more important than a thousand empty ones where we never speak our feelings or do anything to show them. That’s... how I’ve tried to live my life. I lost everyone I cared about back then, and... some of them probably didn’t know how I felt, or at least not how much I felt. Everything I do now is about not letting that happen again.”

“I can’t live like that,” Susan replied. 

“I’m not asking you to. I just want you to let me.”

It was a full week before the next time she invited him over, but when she did, they had pizza and watched a vid, and this time it was Marcus, exhausted after returned just that morning from a Ranger mission investigating the raiders that still plagued the edges of Alliance territory, who fell asleep. When he woke up it was four in the morning and Susan was in her bed. She’d tucked a blanket around him before leaving him on the sofa. He smiled, pulled it closer around himself, and lay back down to doze away the last hours of the night shift.

Susan slept late, for her, that morning, and by the time she rose at eight she could smell coffee brewing. Marcus, still wearing his rumpled robes from the night before, and his shoulder-length hair as disarrayed as she’d ever seen it outside of a life-and-death battle situation, was puttering around her kitchen humming to himself. Gilbert and Sullivan, she thought. 

“I thought the coffee might get you up,” he remarked when he saw her. “I went out earlier, as soon as the shops opened. Couldn’t find any bacon, but I did manage eggs and kale. How does an omelette sound?”

“You’re cooking.”

“You noticed.” 

“...Why are you cooking?”

“To thank you for letting me stay here last night. Or, more to the point, for not kicking my travel-lagged arse out into the corridor at one in the morning. Or whenever the vid ended.”

“More like twenty-two-thirty. You were beat.”

“Hmm. If I fell asleep that early, I guess it explains why I was awake an hour ago.”

Two weeks before, she would have asked why he came back after leaving. As it was, she just accepted the cup of coffee he handed her - black and strong, just the way she liked it - and watched him pour himself a cup and tip a bit of sugar in. The domesticity of it all should have made her uncomfortable. She should have been upset at him for taking liberties, for coming back to her quarters after leaving. How the hell had he done that, anyway? Shouldn’t the door have locked behind him? Those were questions for later, though, because, for whatever insane reason, Susan found she wasn’t angry. Hell, she wasn’t even irritated, and normally she hated having to deal with people before her morning coffee. Somewhere along the line, Marcus had stopped being ‘people.’ Marcus was... Marcus.

 _Damn it._ This had not been what she’d intended when she gave in and accepted a single dinner date.

On the other hand, it _was_ remarkably comfortable, just standing in the little kitchenette with him while he messed around in the cupboards, pulling out bowls and pepper and a wire whisk she hadn’t even known she’d had. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he’d bought that, too.

_Oh, what the hell._

Susan walked into the kitchenette behind Marcus and snaked her arms around his chest, taking a moment to breathe in the sweet, smoky scent of his hair as he turned. 

“Susan?”

She slid her hands under his shirt, and watched the expression on his face turn from shock to a sort of giddy amazement. “Shut up, Marcus.” When she kissed him, he let out a little sigh and dropped the whisk and bowl to wrap his arms tightly around her in return.

* * *

The eggs made it back in the refrigeration unit, but both cups of coffee were forgotten on the counter in the kitchenette as their owners made their way blindly to the bed. Susan was grateful for her good sense of direction, allowing her to walk backwards without directing them into the head or slamming the backs of her legs into the coffee table or something stupid like that. Success meant that the first obstacle she bumped up against was the bed. She dropped onto it and pulled Marcus down with her. He was a little awkward at first, but quickly relaxed into the familiar patterns they’d established over the weeks of making out on various dates, and regained his confidence right up until Susan started working at the closures of his robes. When he pulled back, his face serious and his eyes weirdly veiled, she was sure she was about to get rebuffed again. 

“I’ve told you before, Marcus, if you’re waiting for some magic perfect day--”

“No. No, that’s not it. Or... I think this might actually _be_ that day.” He broke into a silly grin, and then instantly sobered, as if he’d momentarily forgotten what had stopped him only seconds before. “I just... I wasn’t joking about never having done this before.”

 _Duh_ seemed like it would probably be an overly callous reply. “I know. Don’t worry.” Susan was on the verge of continuing that she was good at giving orders, but he looked so genuinely worried that she swallowed that response, too, and settled for just kissing him again, and then taking the opportunity that distraction provided to get her fingers into the hooks and clasps that held his robes primly closed. After a moment’s tense hesitation, he surrendered and laid still while she parted the heavy fabric. 

There’d never been too much concern in her mind about what she’d find underneath those robes - that, at least, had never been one of the problems she saw between them - but she was nonetheless pleasantly surprised. A trim figure, lean-muscled and sleek, skin that was pale but not unusually so, less so than hers, and dusted with a moderate display of dark hair across his chest and down the mid-line of his stomach into the waistband of his trousers. Susan took time exploring, running her hands appreciatively over arms, chest, and back, kissing up and down the bared column of his throat and, when he followed her to sit upright as if pulled by a magnet, she was amused by the way he faltered when his fingers found the bunched-up hem of her satin robe high on her thigh. To give him credit, it was only a moment’s hesitation. There was apparently something to be said for a ranger’s boldness in spite of unfamiliar territory, because he slid his fingers lightly up the him to the knotted belt, and deftly untied it, then parted the two sides of the robe and retreated from their kisses to look. 

“After all that wait, I hope you’re not disappointed,” Susan quipped through a genuine pang of fear after he had been silent a long moment.

He looked back up into her eyes, and she was a little shaken by the honesty there. “Not at all. I just... You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, well.” Confidence restored, she chuckled softly. “It’s not like you’ve got a wide field of comparison to work from.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissed the pulse on the underside of her wrist. “I’m glad I waited.”

He kissed her robe off her shoulders, pulling the fabric away just ahead of his lips, and cupped the supple breasts this revealed, thumbing the tips before kissing them, too, with more enthusiasm than art, but it was still soft lips and gentle, laving tongue, the soft tickle of his beard against delicate skin, and it was good enough. Susan was a little more concerned as she undid the buttons of his trousers, but though he fell back with a gasp at the first touch of her fingers on his extremely erect cock, he recovered quickly with a passionate kiss and strong fingers clasping at the bare skin of her hip. 

From there she showed him where to touch, coaching with a rough, slightly ragged voice as he fumbled a little awkwardly, his fingers barely grazing sensitive skin. He picked up confidence quickly, though, and there was, Susan thought, something to be said for a man who didn’t start out straight away as if he was fixing an engine or something. A light touch could get someone - her, at least - a long way. With a little help from her own hand to point him in the right directions, it wasn’t long before she was trembling and gasping, clutching at the bedsheets, riding out her orgasm against his hand.

In the long moment of recovery, he stroked patterns on her stomach and watched her face like a man offering praises to an icon of divinity. When she recovered herself and climbed easily on top of him, shock overtook his whole expression. 

“Come on, you didn’t think I’d really leave you hanging, did you?” Susan teased, brushing her fingers over his stiff organ. “I’m not _that_ cruel.”

“Of course not. I just wasn’t sure...” He blanched a little as she raised up over him. “Wait! Oh, bollocks - I don’t have any skins.” Cursing himself, he started to sit up. If he’d had any concept of any possibility greater than a dream, he’d have bought some that morning - he’d walked right past the chemist on the way to get the eggs. 

But Susan shook her head, pushing him back down to the bed. “No need. I’m on monthly injections, almost everybody in EarthForce is. I keep forgetting you’re from a backwater colony, still using skins for primary contraception. And as for anything else, Franklin gave me a clean bill of health just last week. And I promise I haven’t run into anything or anybody since then.”

“I’m clean, too. Got a clear bill of health on return from my mission yesterday. No weird bugs. Well, not since my mission last month There was this Drazi insect that--” He blushed. “Not the time, I know.” 

“No kidding.” She kissed him. “Breathe, Marcus. Just relax. Unless you’re having second thoughts...?”

“No. No, not... not at all. Just... my usual chatter. Nervous, I guess.” 

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of everything. If you really want to, you can just lie back and think of... I don’t know, Minbar.”

He laughed softly. “Nice save. I’ve never been to England, even though my grandparents came from there. Although maybe now that this war is over--”

“Marcus.” 

“Sorry.” He was blushing again. 

Susan had to struggle not to laugh. Tense as he was, it would probably only make the nervousness worse. “Don’t be. Just... we can talk later, hmm?”

He nodded, for once solemn and silent, an intent and almost worried expression in his hazel eyes, but his jaw was set as if he was going into battle. _This is why most of us get this done with when we’re teenagers_ , Susan thought wryly. _When you’re that young, you’re either convinced you’ll be a sex-god straight out of the gate, or already so awkward that no amount of newness will make you worse. If not both at the same time, somehow..._ But that didn’t help their current predicament. What helped was leaning down to kiss him again, lazily smoothing her hands over the body beneath her until he’d made it past the nervousness again so that she could slowly, carefully, guide him into her.

Even with her controlling their rhythm, she didn’t expect him last long - what male did, their first time? - but in that she was surprised and impressed. He looked totally overwhelmed at first, yes, his eyes dazed and glassy as if drugged, but he closed his eyes for a moment, took in a slow, deep breath as if centering himself, and by the time he opened his eyes again he seemed more relaxed, more controlled, and even able to take some initiative. He held her hips carefully, helping to support her while she moved, and met her rhythm with his own careful thrusts. In the end, it wasn’t at all the frenzied, teenage rutting she’d imagined any first-time encounter would be. His innate focus and determination, combined with whatever weird Minbari technique he was using to keep from going over the edge until he was ready - and she was going to have to ask Delenn about that just as soon as she could find a way of bringing it up without sounding like she was checking on John’s performance, which would just be creepy, because _damn_ \- he was able to keep up with her perfectly well, right up to the overwhelming rush of her climax, when the feeling of her clenching around him was clearly too much. And what would the point of holding on past that have been, no matter what kind of neo-Tantric crap the Minbari were peddling in those Ranger training camps?

Well, maybe if they were going for twice. Three times, for her. But best to save something for next time, right?

Next time. God, was she actually thinking that? But yes, she was, and... somehow it didn’t seem nearly so implausible or frightening anymore.

Susan gasped a little as he eased out of her, and let herself collapse onto the warm, smooth chest. A callused hand stroked her back. 

“Not bad for your first time?” Susan murmured.

“Definitely worth the wait. Thank you.” Marcus kissed her forehead. 

“Mm. Good.” Susan reached behind her and pulled up the blanket that had been pushed almost to the foot of the bed in all their earlier activity. Drowsy and warm, she felt sleep start to settle in again. Maybe just for a little while. She didn’t have duty, and barring disaster or emergency Marcus could usually count on a few quiet days after returning from a long and hazardous mission like his last. It was only a short reprieve. The next day they were both likely to be back to work and running at full speed again, and if they were especially unlucky something could happen as early as the afternoon that would require their immediate attention. But, then again, it might not. The universe might allow them a little quiet. God knew they’d earned it over the past years. And maybe it would be terrible to have someone to spend that quiet with. Uncertain as it was, Susan was beginning to feel as if it was certain _enough_ , and maybe that was something to feel proud of.


End file.
